Wild Horses
by Gutemine
Summary: Some bonds cannot be severed. Not by time's passing, not by death itself. With the two of them, it is no different.


**A/N:** Weeell, what can I say. This has been lounging around my hard-drive for eons by now and I just decided it is time to get over myself and post it. Once upon a time it was planned to be the prologue of a chapter-fic, and, depending on your opinion, it might still be. So please review and tell me what you think.

Title taken from The Stones' song of the same name.

Enjoy!

* * *

He sits beside her, his legs folded under him, his back straight. Only his neck seems the tiniest bit bent, but the angle is so small that it is practically nonexistent to the untrained eye. Nothing about his outer appearance would tip off anyone as to what is going on behind those teal eyes, nothing shows just how much his world is falling apart on the inside.

Matsumoto is dying.

Strong and proud Matsumoto fell victim to a war that shook Soul Society right to its old and dusted foundations, made its inhabitants wade through puddles of blood and sweat and mud, made them clash steel with those who once belonged to them and those who were twisted spawns of a sick, sick mind – and finally, a war that had Soul Society come out as victor, anyway.

But at what price?

But that is how war works, and although Hitsugaya is still young he has been a warrior long enough to know that he isn't the only one losing someone important right here, right at that moment. There are casualties all around and whatever member of the fourth division even halfway conscious is still on his or her legs, plodding to keep as many alive as possible.

Unohana is sitting in front of him, on Matsumoto's other side, emitting the sort of despair he has never hoped to see on that calm and motherly face.

There's a first to everything, as they say.

His head bends a little lower in his own distress and he thinks that this isn't appropriate for his second-in-command, that she will leave this world (him) dirtied and bloodied, pitted by an arrancar mutation of the worst kind.

This is not how it is supposed to be.

"I'm sorry."

The voice barely registers in his mind, but professionalism is engraved into his very bones and so he raises his eyes to look at the senior taichou.

"There is no need for you to apologize", he says and means it.

Unohana nods and takes her leave to care for those who still have a chance of escaping death's grip.

He doesn't lift his head to glance around, aware that everybody knows what it means when Unohana leaves the side of someone this close to dying.

Of course there are others who want to say goodbye to Matsumoto now, for, if anything, she is a social magnet, someone almost everybody likes to spend time with even if she tends to be completely exuberant.

Tended to be, he corrects in his mind because he, after all, is able to avow to facts, even if they are wholly disagreeable.

But he is her superior, the one whom she has spent most of her time with over the past decades, whom she has put every little ounce of her faith and trust in, who has seen her in her best and also in her worst conditions.

As such he thinks himself entitled to the egotism of wanting to be the last one at her side, the only one.

Nobody interferes.

He takes her hand in his own and for the first time in their mutual acquaintance the temperature of hers actually comes close to the temperature of his. It's a sad thought, in the end, for their competence as a team (which, surprisingly, has often been envied by others) prospered because of them being two polar opposites.

But right now her body heat drops exponentially, her once vibrant hair is clotted by dirt and sweat, her skin a color that comes close to the ash of her sword.

With the right wing of her lung having been shredded it is only by way of one of Unohana's kidou spells that Matsumoto can still breath calmly, still breath at all.

"Taichou", she croaks, a wretched caricature of what she normally sounds like and Hitsugaya can barely suppress the reflex to flinch, but he does, and his hand around hers tightens.

Despite his best efforts though he cannot utter one word. His throat is sealed up and he finds that no lesson in the academy, no experience on the battlefield, nothing in the past few centuries of his life has prepared him for this. His mind is a jumble of thoughts and memories, incoherent in their states of disintegration, but still sharp around the edges and hurtful where they cut.

But he tries his best to concentrate on her now, and on her alone. His state of despair and confusion can wait until later to be handled.

So he lowers his other hand onto her forehead, combs back the wild mass of her sticky hair and resigns himself to wait.

Her eyelids flutter slightly, but never enough to show the blue of her eyes, before she takes a deep breath in preparation of speaking.

"I might be late tomorrow", she says and despite everything he laughs a little, because and after all, Matsumoto Rangiku just doesn't do tragic.

*

It is a little more than a decade later that Hinamori comes into his office, her eyes a little too soft, too understanding as they shimmy over the long vacated fukutaichou's desk, something they always do when she enters the office and something Hitsugaya has learned to (pretend to) ignore over the past few years.

There still is nobody to replace _her_. He still wants nobody to replace _her_.

"Good morning", Hinamori says and puts down a plate of dango (not onigiri, never onigiri) on his table. "How about a little break?"

His eyes flicker up to her face for the fraction of a second before settling on the papers in front of him again. "I'm busy as you can see."

She flinches at his harsh tone, although she knows that he isn't deliberately cold and reserved. Circumstances – a few of which she herself had been directly involved in – have made him that way, somehow. No, not somehow, she knows quite well how.

But those things are in the past now, forever untouchable, forever unchangeable.

What is left of the Winter War is regret. For all of them.

But they have to move on some time and while she knows Hitsugaya to still be the formidable taichou he always used to be, his overcoming Matsumoto's death is a long way in coming as of yet.

With a sad smile Hinamori looks out of the window and onto the average-sized square that is the tenth division's garden. The season of spring has every little thing down there sprouting and blossoming, a tiny sea of pinks and greens that makes Hinamori a bit more confident regarding the little endeavor she is about to drag her longtime-friend and brother-in-all-but-blood into.

"I need your help", she says without another preamble, shifting her gaze back towards him.

He returns her look expectantly.

"We need to go to the living world. I already have Yamamoto-soutaichou's permission."

Hitsugaya's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "Living world? What's going on?"

"I'm not quite sure myself. There seems to be a problem with one wandering soul..." Which isn't that much of a lie, Hinamori notices with no small amount of pride.

"One soul warrants the attention of a taichou?"

With uncharacteristic impatience Hinamori heaves a sigh. "Yes, it does."

Hitsugaya continues watching her suspiciously for a few more seconds and she fears that he has looked right through her white lie. But then he stands up, rounds the table and comes to stand beside her. "Then make it quick, I have other things that need my attention."

Unable to hold back the smile threatening to split her face in half Hinamori turns to lead the way.

*

Hitsugaya follows his black-haired companion as they emerge into the world of the living, silently nurturing his suspicions about what they are doing here. In the end, it's probably just one of Hinamori's evil schemes to get him to 'relax', as she puts it, 'because all you do is work'. Well, what can he say? He _is _a shinigami, after all, and the job comes with a few obligations.

And he has always been some kind of loner – except when Matsumoto was around, but she isn't anymore, and it seems only natural to him to revert back to his old self.

He watches Hinamori observe the small town below their feet, her eyes rushing back and forth, trying to take in everything all at once.

"What are we looking for?", he asks, clearly annoyed, because obviously something that warrants a taichou's attention should be a little more... eye-catching, to say the least.

But Hinamori doesn't let herself get deterred from her task, and after a few seconds she falls into a sprint, automatically assuming Hitsugaya would follow.

Surprisingly enough, he does.

She leads him towards the center of town, stops above what looks like a main street.

"That should be it", she mumbles, then turns to him, "Could you wait here for a second? I'll be right back."

She is gone before he can even utter a word. Dumbfounded he stares at the space she has occupied milliseconds previous and wonders why the hell he decided to come along in the first place.

It doesn't matter now anyway, he thinks, and Hinamori has tried his patience long enough as it is, so he decides to take her absence as valid reason to return to Soul Society immediately.

But then again, Hinamori's behavior the past few minutes has been decidedly strange, and Hitsugaya doesn't quite know why. And although there are depths to her personality he'd rather not fathom, not now, not ever, he is quite certain she wouldn't drag him out here for no purpose whatsoever.

He'll give her ten seconds.

As he starts his countdown he lets his gaze slide over the street below him and on it, or rather on the walkway next to it, he sees a young girl with black pigtails. Judging by her clothes and the time of day she is probably on her way home from school.

Nothing peculiar about her.

That is, until a boy not much older than her catches up to her, grabs one of her pigtails and yanks it forcefully. Hitsugaya watches mildly concerned as the girl cries out and lets go of her bag. She tries to swat the boy's hands away, but to no avail as he only yanks more viciously, laughing at her obvious distress.

As Hitsugaya watches the (rather trivial, he must admit, for in his long live he has seen much, much worse) spectacle unfold beneath him he contemplates making a stone magically drop out of the sky and onto the boy's head, if only to do his good deed for the day.

But then another girl appears, wearing the same uniform as the first one, but showcasing an attitude so entirely different that Hitsugaya finds himself awestruck for a moment. With a shriek of fury she jumps onto the boy's back and hooks her arm around his throat, completely ignorant of the fact that he has the advantage both in height and weight.

"How many times do I have to tell you", she yells directly into the boy's ear, "Keep your dirty hands off Miyako-chan!"

The boy is quick to obey and step back, something Hitsugaya finds highly amusing.

"I'm sorry!", he squeaks in reply, both his hands raised in front of him in a placating manner.

Slightly appeased the feisty girl climbs off him, and after what seems like a short internal struggle, punches his jaw anyway. The momentum makes him stagger on his feet, but he finds his equilibrium before he falls.

"Now get outta here!", she yells, "And don't show your face around here anymore!"

The boy vanishes in an instant. The girls stare after him for a moment before they turn back towards each other.

"You okay, Miyako-chan?", the slightly taller girl asks.

"I'm fine" comes the meek reply. "Thank you so much! I just don't know why he always picks on me..."

"Ah, don't worry. Boys are just stupid like that. Maybe he even likes you or something."

"W-what?"

Instead of elaborating, the other one just shrugs and starts walking – only to halt again and look up to where Hitsugaya is hovering in mid-air. She doesn't see him, he can tell by the way her eyes shift left and right, she is probably just sensing his compressed reiatsu somehow and trying to find the source of it.

But having her face him directly makes the tiny suspicion that has been gnawing at the back of his mind during the whole incident jump to the forefront.

She is young of course, much younger than he has ever seen her – ten at the most. Her hair is short, her body undeveloped.

But her eyes are the same blue, the same shape as before. Her hair still has the color of honey, curling around her familiar face. Even the beauty spot next to her mouth is there.

He feels the corners of his mouth twitch upwards in response to what he sees.

But then the girl shakes her head, turns around and catches up with her friend. The two of them walk away laughing.

Hitsugaya doesn't look after them, doesn't see them turn the corner and vanish out of sight. His eyes aren't focused on anything as he feels the weight of a whole mountain being lifted off his shoulders, as his heart crawls out of the deep dark corner it had locked itself in for the past years.

With the smile still tucking at his lips he decides that it's time to head back.

He has to thank Hinamori, after all.


End file.
